


Is it breath you're holding in?

by Khohshekh



Category: Hollywood Undead (Band)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Attempted Murder, Dominance, Dylan is a Spanish Speaking lunatic, Hiding, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Murder, Plot Twists, Presumed Dead, Rape Aftermath, Running Away, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 00:09:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13329354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khohshekh/pseuds/Khohshekh
Summary: "We had been running the streets for a while, the moon lighting the way, our leader sneaking us through the alleyways claiming he had someone who could help us."





	Is it breath you're holding in?

This is outrageous. We had been running the streets for a while, the moon lighting the way, our leader sneaking us through the alleyways claiming he had someone who could help us. We stopped for the 5th time for Jorel to look at his phone, looking up. “This is the street,” He announced. “Let’s go, look for 1910.” I could feel our drummer’s hand slip into mine and squeeze it. “It’s going to be alright.”

Jorel lead the group down the neighborhood, and we tried our best not to draw attention to ourselves. “1920 is here… there! It's across the street. Let’s go.” Jorel lead our group, travelling over the asphalt and over the dead grass of a mysterious white house with a cracked window. Jorel stepped up to the door, and knocked gently.

“You’re sure he can help?” Dylan whispered rubbing his hand on his bare arms, shivering. “We need to trust someone to fix this, we can't have him squealing to the police.”  
“Trust me on this.” Jorel merely said. Footsteps were heard, and the door was unlocked. Matt squeezed my hand harder, and I coward behind him. The HU crew, galloping the streets of Hollywood, escaping danger and for what? For Jorel to bring us to someone he said could help. “What do you want?” He grumbled, and Jorel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We need your help, Aron.”

+=+=+=+ Flashback +=+=+=+

 

We were running for what seemed akin to hours, adrenaline fueling our bodies, pursuing us further towards the city's limits. Our throats were parched, and our feet ached yet we continued. We came to a small bridge over a ditch, leaning over to catch our breaths. We were exhausted, dry heaving and virtually shaking.

 

“Shit.. i can't run anymore…” I gasped, voice hoarse and raspy. “Where are we, anyways? We just ran aimlessly, I don’t think we’ve been here before.”  
“Chill, I know where we are.” Jorel removed his hat, snaking fingers through his sweaty hair.   
“We can't stay here.” Dylan sat down. “It's nearly 2 AM, we’re exhausted, thirsty, and we can't sleep anywhere like a bunch of homeless thugs.”

“We just ran well over 5 miles, no car, we are not just gonna walk back, Dylan! What choice do we have?!” Jorel hissed in his face. The group looked over at him, George started crying. “It's my fault… I got you all into this.”  
“You didn’t, George.” Jorel assured. “We are all at fault here.” He straightened up, wiping the sweat from his head. “Listen, I know exactly where we are. And… I know someone in this area that can help us get rid of the body. Come on… he’s not too far.” He looked up at me. “Don't worry, Danny. We’ll straighten it out.”

 

+=+=+=+ Present +=+=+=+

 

“Where is he?”   
“He’s still in his house.” Jorel explained, giving directions to Aron in the front seat while the rest of us were either in the back or the very back of Aron’s nice and roomy SUV. Nobody could stop sobbing quietly, George especially. Jorel kept his composure though. Just like he always did as a leader.

“I still can't believe I’m helping you take a fucking dead body somewhere to dump it.” Aron shook his head. “I know I was close to y’all but damn.”  
“I know, and I’m sorry I got you into this but…” he trailed off, sighing. “We really do appreciate it, Aron.”  
“Don't mention it. Literally. I won't tell the police if you don't. This will all be our little secret, yes?”  
“Yes. If you don’t tell the police we killed a man, we won't tell them you helped dispose of his body. Deal?” He took his hand out, and Aron shook it, keeping his eyes on the road while uttering ‘deal’.

George growled. “We killed a man?” He said quietly, sitting right next to me, but of course loud enough for most to hear. “I was the one who murdered him…” I reach a hand to touch his knee, but he didn’t respond. Merely stared at his own folded hands.

+=+=+=+ Flashback +=+=+=+

 

“St-stop!” I gasped, whimpering softly as he took my pants off quickly.   
“Don’t worry, baby.” He grinned. “I’ll make this nice and quick for us, okay?” 

 

He got me naked from the waist down, holding my hands above my head, shoving two fingers inside of me. I squeal loudly, and his hand went over my mouth. “Shh… don’t want anyone finding us, do we?” He whispered in my ear, pulling the lobe with his teeth. He took his hand away to pull his zipper down with one hand. He hadn’t bothered to use lubrication, pushing a third finger inside me. The pressure was too much to handle, and a single tear fell from my left eye, rolling to the side, which he rubbed off with his thumb.

“I’ll make sure you enjoy it, Danny.” he whispers to me, removing his fingers, making me groan. I could feel his head against me, and slowly push in. “Tell me you want it…” He growled, and I swallowed. “Please… no! Stop this!”

The door, which he must’ve forgotten to lock, suddenly swung open aggressively. God himself stood in the doorway, with Dylan and Jorel right behind them. “What… the FUCK?! George yelled. “It was fucking YOU! YOU were the one molesting Danny!”  
“The fuck is wrong with you, Jordon?!” Dylan screamed at him.

Jordon quickly pulled his pants up, backing up against the wall. “George… listen.”  
“Just shut the fuck up!” George grabbed his collar, swinging him around. “I never fucking thought someone like you could commit such a fucking sin, and to your own best friend?!”  
“Please… let me explain!”  
“SHUT UP!” He threw him again, and he flew to the ground. I swallowed, merely putting covers to hide my genitals. Matt entered, looking around. “What the hell is happening?!”

“Jordon here was the one molesting Danny all along!” Dylan pointed.  
“WHAT?!”  
“Please… I’m so sorry.”  
“Shut your fucking mouth!” Jorel was the first one to kick, followed by Dylan, then the other two. I whimpered, covering my eyes as they started to take all anger out on Jordon. I peeked through my fingers once he started to scream out for mercy.

They were throwing him around, tackling him, beating their fists against him, kicking him, yanking his hair. At one point, he fought back, nailing Dylan in the nose, sending him to the ground but he got right back up in the fight. Jordon’s face was bloody and bruised, and he could hardly move after a while. Either that, or he just accepted it. George straddled him, staring down at him for a split second before gripping Jordon’s throat with his hands, squeezing. Jordon gasped, wiggling his legs but George was stronger. 

 

George was a different man; his teeth clenched, saliva dripping like he was a wild dog, his eyes black, possessed by evil. Jorel leaned down, tugging his arm. “George, that’s enough, lay off.” He huffed. “George. Let go!” He pulled harder, and the Irish shoved him off with a powerful hand, slamming it right back to where it was, seemingly pushing harder. Jordon’s own hands went from holding onto George’s wrists to up more, where he patted his shoulders, tears escaping.

“George.. Please, stop! You’re scaring everybody!” Dylan screamed. “Don’t make this thing something you’ll regret!”  
“We’re serious, George! Let go!” Jorel, and now Matt were at either side, trying to pull him off. “You’re going to kill him, stop!” 

I got up from the bed, of course not bothering to dress, leaning down to look George in the eyes. “He’s not worth it, George!” I cried, wiping my nose. “Stop this right now! Think of your daughter!” His eyes flashed towards mine, and I knew it wasn’t George. No, it was something else. Something atrocious, hateful, and corrupted. Still, his eyebrows lifted, and he let go of Jordon, looking down. Jordon’s eyes were closed.

There was a deafening silence, the only thing that could be heard was George’s heavy breathing. “SHIT!” Dylan pushed me aside, and Matt and Jorel pulled George up and off of his body as Dylan checked for a pulse. “Jordon? Come on, buddy.. .wake up! WAKE UP!” He pulled at his own hair, shaking his head.

Jorel leaned down. “Is he…?”  
“I don't know! Jordon, wake up, please!” Dylan begged, squeaking. I put my head to his chest, practically sobbing. Receiving no sign of life, I shook my head to the others, keeping my forehead pressed to Jordon’s chest, listening to the sobs from my fellow peers.

 

+=+=+=+ Present +=+=+=+

 

The porch light was still off when we came to the house, just as we had left it. Aron unbuckled first, quickly getting out with Jorel. “So where is he?”  
“Just inside.” I can hear them say.” Matt, to my left, got out of the car while I stayed with George, who hadn’t even moved. “George?”

“I… I don’t want to look at him. I’m staying in here.”  
“That’s fine… And I’m sorry about this.”  
“Please, it's not like it's your fault. I just… I lost control. Last week, when you admitted to everyone that somebody was molesting you, it made me so fucking angry. I didn’t think it would be Jordon. I lost control of myself when I saw that he was doing something to you like that. I couldn’t stop myself when I was choking him… All I wanted to do was show him how it felt to be in pain and... “ He sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Now I’ve killed my best friend…”

I didn’t know what to say. It not every day you have to comfort a friend who just killed someone. But I did have a confession. “Listen, George--” Matt knocked on the window suddenly, looking extremely concerned. I rolled the window down. “What’s wrong?!”  
“Jordon… he’s… the body is gone!” 

+=+=+=+ Flashback +=+=+=+

 

Everyone was in a frantic state.

George was in the corner sobbing, rocking like some asylum patient, clawing at his face.  
Dylan was pacing around, muttering words I could not decipher. 

Jorel and Matt were arguing on what to do next; Matt was saying that we should turn ourselves in, while Jorel tried shushing him, telling him to keep his head. I remained lying on the floor next to Jordon, my tears soaked his shirt.

 

“Calm down, Matty. We are not turning ourselves in, we can… I don't know, leave, have someone else find the body.”  
“You’re fucking insane!” He wailed, flinging his arms around. Jorel clutched his shoulders, holding him firmly. “Listen to me. Right fucking now, all of you!” He loudly announced. “Since none of you are keeping your heads on your shoulders, this is what we are going to do. First of all, NONE of us are gong to breathe a damn word about this to anyone. And I mean anyone. Danny’s rapist is dead… but we lost… we lost Jordon.” He sniffled, letting go of one of Matt’s shoulders to wipe his nose clean. 

He turned to face the group. “Look. We can't turn ourselves in. What we’re going to do, is take Jordon and bring him to his house. We’ll put him in bed, and just leave him there. One of us, maybe be, will file a missing person’s report. When they investigate, they’ll find his dead body, and declare him dead. When we go to his house, we’re gonna cause a scene. Knock things over, and steal any precious property. Make it seem like a robbery. The police will think someone killed and robbed him.”

Seemed under-minded to me, but what else were we supposed to do? Besides, I was too afraid to speak out againt Jorel’s not-so-brilliant plan. We all decided without words to leave George in the corner for now, and we wrapped Jordon’s body in a blanket, the four of us carrying him into the living room first. “Ah.. fuck, can we put him down a second?” Dylan huffed, losing his grip on his side.   
“Alright… just… lift him on the couch, here…” Jorel grunted, setting him down on the couch. 

“This is fucking awful.” Matt whimpered. “Carrying the body of our dead friend to his house to set up a fake scene just so we can fucking get away with murder.”  
“You got a better idea, genius?”  
“Turn ourselves in! I mean.. Maybe we can convince the police that it was a mistake. That Jordon raped Danny, we beat the shit out of him, George got to heated and… manslaughter?”

“I am not… going to prison.” George’s voice was heard from the doorway. “Enough of your fucking turning us in shit, Matt. Keep this up and you’ll be fucking next.”

I shivered, and looked at the sorry and pitiful expression, and for a moment I thought he would burst into tears… or a screaming fit. Instead, George sighed, scratching his head. “I’m… I’m sorry, Matt. I’m just… Still in shock. I just turned into a murderer. I don’t know what I feel right now.”

Matt shrugged. “I get it. Let’s just… you can stay here? I know you don’t want to look at him anymore. We can leave and set shit up. Or… I don't know, we can take you home?”  
“No. I’m going with, you guys aren’t responsible for what I did.”  
“Fine.” Dylan said. “Do whatever you want…” He was speaking very fast, jittering and heaving. “We just gotta get out of here!”

Headlights flashed in the window, making us all freeze suddenly. Jorel snuck over, peering through the blinds. “Someone’s in the driveway!” He whisper yelled. “We can't get the body outside! Quick, leave him, get out the back door and over the fence!” He quickly went to Jordon, fixing the blanket to make it look like he was merely sleeping, complete with a hand on his chest, while everyone fled to the back door, discluding Matt.

“Jorel, we can't just--” The italian grabbed Matt’s collar, yanking him closer. “Fucking get out of here! Or go to jail, your fucking choice, just move out of my way!” He tossed him, running towards me. I waited in the doorway for him, and Matt followed at last. George and Dylan were already over the fence, waiting for us. “Come on! We gotta get out of here!” Dylan gestured.

Jorel helped me up over the fence, and I fell over, landing on my back. By the time Dylan helped me to my feet, both Jorel and Matt had made it over. “Let’s go! Run!” He yelled, pulling at us. We let him lead the way, running streets, dodging any cars, avoiding major streets, hopping more fences, until we came to that bridge to catch our breaths. Not once did we stop. Not in the hours invested in running did we stop for one reason. Amazing how adrenaline pumps your body further than the limit.

Another life goes into the night.

+=+=+=+ Present +=+=+=+

 

Aron insisted on forgetting about Jorel’s first plan on disturbing the house and putting him in bed. George’s fingerprints would be found instantly. Jorel tried arguing that, if we didn’t disturb the house, they could admit to the police we beat him up and George put his hands on his throat. But of course, George would be convicted anyways if that was the story we told. 

Now we had a bigger problem on our hands. “What do you mean gone?!” I quickly get out of the car, closing t behind me. I followed him into the house and sure enough, Jordon’s body was missing from the couch, the blanket we wrapped him in remaining. Aron was nearly yelling at Jorel on where the body was. 

“Bitch, I don’t know! He was here when we left!”  
“Mother fucker, if you are setting me up… I swear to Christ I’ll-”  
“Nobody is setting you up for anything! Dude, we set him here before we fled, someone was in the driveway with their car, we panicked and ran away but he was there!”  
“This is unbelieveable..” Dylan grumbled. “We’re all gonna fucking rot in jail… we’re all gonna become human pin cushions! Hahahah!” He bursted into a fit of creepy maniacal laughter.

“Shut the fuck up, crazy!” Aron spat at him.   
“What’s wrong, Aron?! Huh?! You’re going to prison too, bitch! We can all be one happy jailbird family! Hahahahaha!” His laughter scared the shit out of me. It truly was the demonic laughter of an insane patient. We were all creeped out.

 

George slammed the front door, and Dylan quieted down, not before George could backhand him, silencing him completely. "Enough of your shit, Dylan. He grumbled. "Listen, since none of you dickheads want to listen to logic, you better fucking listen to me if you want your nuts in tact. Sit down." He half yelled the last part. Everyone obeyed, Sitting on the couch, Aron hesitated, yet complied, sitting on the arm of the couch. "Look. With the body missing, we need to fucking find out what happened to him. I don't know about you guys, but I cant help but feel like he came back from the dead... Danny." He turned to me.

 

"Dan. He was your rapist. What do you want to do when he's found?"

 

Aron's eyes shot towards me. "Rapist?! Is that what this is about?! You murdered Jordon because he raped Danny? Tell me you're joking."

"Look at me, Aron. Do I look like I want to be fucking humorous right now?"

"Don't get all fucking "I'm the fucking badass" shit on me, George. I'm helping you, I could easily walk out and tell the police what happened..."

 

Dead silence. Aron looked absurd and I honestly thought he was about to hit someone. "Aron..." I say softly. "I'm sorry you're in this. But we really appreciate you. Honestly..."

 

He looked over at me, sighing. "I'll be right back." He stood up.

"Where you going?"

"To the little boy's room, nosy! Figure something out, alright? I'll drive you to wherever the fuck you want just... fuck." He sighed, turning into the hallway. Once the door was shut, there was another awkward silence, until I hear Dylan suddenly yell "SHIT!" And someone tackled George to the floor.

　

"What the fuck?!" Jorel quickly pulled on whoever was on top of him, and whoever it was, although a familiar face, was someone we didn't want to see."

 

Jordon screeched, throwing his fists on George's face. "YOU SON OF A BITCH! You tried to fucking kill me!"

　

"How is this possible...?!" I gasp to myself, backing away to a wall. Jorel and Dylan pulled Jordon off, who's face was so filled with rage.

 

"Stop it, dude!"

"Enough!"

"Jordon!"

 

"This sick fuck tried to kill me! And all of you fucking abandoned me, running away! If I was killed you ran like cowards! What, were you gonna fucking bury my corpse? Or be honest men and turn yourselves in?"

 

"Understand that we were afraid, Jordon. We didn’t' know what to do!"

"You think I wasn't?! My own fucking friends beat the shit out of me, and tried to fucking kill me!" His eyes flashed towards George. "You... this is your fault! You attempt murder for something I didn't even do!"

"Bullshit, you raped Danny!"

"I DID NOT! I FUCKING LOVED DANNY. And you're going to fucking pay!" Jordon pulled out a steak knife, and held it above his head ready to strike. Everyone began to scream, at George to move or Jordon to stop.

 

What silenced us, and put a stop to Jordon's actions, was a sudden gunshot. It made us yelp, and cover our ears.

 

Jordon dropped the knife above his head. It was horrific; blood poured from his mouth, and he hunched to grab the bullet wound in his chest, softly gagging until he fell forwards into George's open arms.

　

The Irish gasped, holding his corpse, whimpering. "Jordon..." He winced. I looked over in the hallway. Aron stood with a pistol in his hands, shaking as he lowered it. "There's no time to lose. Get him in my car before blood spills on the floor."

 

Jordon was wrapped in the blanket again, with no blood on the floor. Only on George's sweater. Everybody held onto Jordon's confirmed dead body to the back of Aron's SUV, hitting Jordon's head on his back light. But, we got him in there. Dylan had to stay in the very back with the body again since there was no room, poor soul. Jorel and Aron decided to drive to the California deserts to drop him off somewhere.

 

Dylan, still seated in the back, could not stop giggling to himself. Which was strange, he wasn't the one who murdered him. Not the first or second. He suddenly began to quietly hum our song "Sing" to himself, with a huge smile on his face.

 

We made it to the desert, but we still had to get halfway through to find a suitable and far enough place for him. Aron kept staring at me through the mirror. Every time I’d catch him, he’d look away, as if his eyes were focused on the road the entire time. The trip itself was unsettling. No music, which made it even more awkward but none of us wanted to hear some joyful song in this situation. It would take forever for any of us to recover.

The sun was beginning to rise, and I silently questioned why I wasn’t so damn tired. It must be the love for ecstasy. “Okay, the sun’s coming up, we better find a spot and hide him fast before anyone drives by and sees us.” Aron announced suddenly, and began to pull over without confirmation. 

“Buena familia, vamanos!” Dylan howled, again with his witty laughter. He jumped in the back like a frog, waiting for the door to be opened. George grumbled, face palming. “Dylan, you’re making this headache worse… Shut up and get digging.” 

Aron began driving further out into the desert, angling himself with the road. “There. Dig right next to the car, that way no one can see us.”  
“Even if they’re a ways away? They’d see us. The car doesn’t hide us completely, Aron.”  
“Then you better fucking hurry? The sun isn’t completely up yet, it's almost 5:30. And you don’t have to dig 6 feet, maybe 2? Come on.”

Dylan was let out, and he leaped from the van, throwing his hands in the air. “Vamos a cavar, hermanos!” He yelled, getting a shush. “AH, lo siento... “ he whispered, giggling again.

“Ignore him, just dig! Leave Jordon in there for now.” We had 3 shovels. George, Jorel, and Matt were the ones to do the dirty work. I kept ‘watch’ although I didn’t seem of help. Dylan walked up to me, almost normally. “Hey… wanna be my cellmate?”  
“Shut up, dude. This is serious.”  
“So am I. We aint getting away with this…” He giggled again, shaking his head. “Estamos jodidos! HAH!”  
“Chill, Dyan.” I roll my eyes. With the sand, it was easy to dig the first foot in no time. The next foot was done by the time the sun had introduced itself to the world, and we quickly put Jordon’s corpse in there. “Wait…” Matt stopped Aron from covering him.

“Listen, I know we’re short on time but… he’s still our friend and this seems… I don't know, rude? Inconsiderate?”  
“I think beating him up, choking him and fucking shooting him was already mean enough, Matt. Get over it.” Jorel sighed.  
“But… we can't just… all those years of our friendship and we’re burying him like some stranger. I just feel like we need to do something more.”  
“No time to arrange a fucking funeral service, Matt! Not on a Friday!” Dylan laughed, leaning against the car in soft hysterical laughter. 

 

“I’m not saying that! Just pay an ounce of respect! Like.. does anyone want to say a few words?!”   
“NO!”  
“I do.” I sighed. “Look… Jordon wasn’t--”  
“SHH! CAR!” Aron hissed.  
“They can't hear us, dumbo!”  
“But they can see us! Put the shovels in the car, quick!” Everyone handed them to Jorel, who just shoved them in the front seat. George and Aron huddled close together to hide the hole as they passed. “That was fucking close… No time, say your words and fucking hurry up, we’re covering him!” 

Aron took the shovel’s back, and him and Jorel began to cover Jordon with sand. Afterwards, I convinced the HU guys to hold hands and I said a small prayer for Jordon. Then we got in the car, got back on the road, and back to Los Angeles.

Dylan was singing now in a familiar Chrismas tune, and it made us all fucking insane. 

“Era Rodolfo un reno que tenía la nariz

roja como la grana con un brillo singular.” He laughed, shaking his head side to side. He sat next to me this time, Matt taking the back.

 

“Todos sus compañeros se reían sin parar

y nuestro buen amigo no paraba de llorar.”

 

“God dammit…” Aron growled, turning on the radio. “Tirando del trineo, fue Rodolfo sensación

y desde aquel momento, toda burla se acabó.”

 

Aron dropped us off, George stayed with Dylan because of his mental state. Jorel was next, and I was going to be the last one dropped off. “Uh… Jorel, can I stay with you tonight?!” I quickly ask, not wanting to be alone with Aron for good reason. This whole time I was afraid of this man, in ways no one could see with their own eyes.

“Um… I don’t care. Do what you want.”  
“Oh, I see how it is. He’s scared to be in the car alone with me.” Aron scoffed, and Jorel looked at me in the back seat. “Seriously, dude? He’s not gonna fucking hurt you. I don’t know if you noticed, but he’s helped us a fuck ton today. Just… go home, alright? After I sleep for a bit I’ll check on you. Right now I need rest.”

 

I squeaked, looking over at Aron in fear. He looked at me in his mirror again, a wicked smile smeared on his face, and he licked his lips slowly. I turned away.

 

Aron escorted Jorel to the door, which was something he didn't do with George and Dylan. They talked at his doorstep for a second, and I watched as Aron and Jorel had a 5 second kiss… like they had kissed before. I quickly roll the window down. “What the fuck?!”

Jorel groaned. “Don’t start dude.”  
“What… did that just happen?”   
“Yes it did.” Aron said. “You better not tell the others but… me and him have been seeing each other for a while.   
“WHAT?!” I looked at Jorel. “Is that true…?”

“Yeah, it is.” he sighed. “The only reason I knew what area we were in earlier, and where he lived. And… the only reason I trusted him to help. That, and he’s trustworthy.” 

I wouldn’t agree with that, but… instead, I scoot back in my seat, rolling my window up. Aron quickly got in the car, waving to Jorel then driving off. I had a feeling I knew what would happen. “Aron… just drop me off here, I’ll walk.” I say, yet he didn’t answer. “Aron, please…”  
“Be quiet.” He says, and drives past the area we hid in earlier, and into an alleyway, locking all doors and turning off the engine. He turned towards me with a familiar wicked smile.

“To think… you all got the wrong guy…” He smirked. “To think that, even with me in the picture, I could get away with this. And now, your innocent boyfriend is dead. Buried wrongfully in that desert sand, by the hands of his mate and friends themselves.”

I swallowed hard. When I admitted to the guys that i was raped, several times by the same guy, the first thing they wanted was revenge. Then, a name. I just couldn’t give them Aron’s name. I couldn’t tell them I was going behind Jordon’s back for a more… exciting sexual relationship, instead, getting a rapist.

“You… you and Jorel… You’re sleeping with me… raping me… Cheating on him.”  
“What can I say, Danny? You’re cute, and he doesn’t scream like you do…” He growled, quickly leaping from his seat, pouncing on me. He had me in the back of his SUV where Jordon’s dead body had laid. I was turned on my stomach with force, and I felt his hand slip down my ass, and  finger inside me. “Who knows, Danny? With Jordon gone, and Jorel on my side,” He leaned over to my ear. “I could be in your little group again. And I would get you every. Single. Day.” I whimpered as he pulled my pants down. I couldn’t fight. 

All I could think about was Jordon. When I saw him alive I couldn’t be happier… Aron didn’t shoot him to save George’s life. He shot him to get Jordon out of the picture again. Now, I have to take it. For Jordon. Still, I scream as he pushes into me.

**Author's Note:**

> Another one of my better works, a horror-ish theme and much less sex in this one. And I'm getting better at this tag thing, aren't I?


End file.
